


A Long Time Coming

by youjik33



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Mentions of Previous Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7761436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youjik33/pseuds/youjik33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It had been there, in the back of both of their heads, for years. Not even a hope, really, but a question, a possibility, a great big “maybe” that they both usually ignored but that never quite went away.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Years after their first meeting, Monica and Richard actually try dating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Time Coming

**Author's Note:**

> Technically takes place in the same fic universe as [gotta let go of all of our ghosts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7373875), though it should make perfect sense as a stand-alone.
> 
> Written for the tumblr fandom's first Niche Content Weekend. I actually kind of quietly ship Richard and Monica, even though nobody else seems to, not even the showrunners XD

It had been there, in the back of both of their heads, for years. Not even a hope, really, but a question, a possibility, a great big “maybe” that they both usually ignored but that never quite went away.

But with Pied Piper just about as comfortably established as a company could possibly be in the always-volatile tech marketplace, maybe finally the timing was right. So Monica – who had seen him at his best and at his worst, and come out of that still liking him a whole hell of a lot – had finally asked Richard out an on honest to goodness actual date, and he’d said yes.

The thing was, they’d been friends for so long that it barely even felt like a date. They talked and laughed over dinner, and Richard didn’t put up a fight when Monica insisted they split the check. It was easy and comfortable, and the only thing that made it different from an ordinary after-work hangout – they’d had a few of those, over the years – was that this time, as they walked back to his car, she reached for his hand, and felt a little thrill of excitement when his fingers squeezed hers.

“You want to come in for some coffee?” she asked as he pulled to a stop in front of her condo. Even in the dim yellow of the street lights she could see the flush of pink across his cheekbones.

“Um,” he said. “Is that a euphemism?”

“Of course it is,” she said with a grin.

He’d gotten less nervous in the time she’d known him, or at least better at hiding it, but she could tell by the way his hands squeezed the steering wheel that he was getting flustered.

“Hey,” she said, softening. “Don’t feel like you have to. Or, you know, if you really do want to just come in and have some coffee, that’s fine too.”

“I’m just a little worried about moving too fast,” he confessed.

“Too fast? Richard, it’s been five years.”

He laughed, probably at himself, shaking his head. His perpetually tangled hair fell onto his forehead and Monica itched to touch it, push it back. And, she realized, this time maybe she actually could.  
He looked confused as she reached toward him, but then leaned into her touch, and they had their first kiss right there in his car.

Less than two minutes later they had their second kiss, Monica pressed up against the kitchen counter with Richard’s hands on her waist. She couldn’t seem to keep her hands out of his hair. He wasn’t exactly a great kisser – sloppy, overeager, too forceful with his tongue – and she pulled back a little. “Slow down,” she murmured. “You’re the one who was worried about rushing things.”

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s, uh, it’s been a while, since I...” He started to pull away, and she let her hands slide to his shoulders, squeezing softly.

“Hey, it’s okay. Me, too.”

“No, I mean, like.” He coughed. “Years.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “Don’t be embarrassed. You’ve had different priorities, it’s not a big deal.”

Richard looked away, pressing his lips into a tight line, and Monica realized he was going into overthinking mode. She wondered if kissing him again might snap him out of it.

“I have to tell you something,” he said.

“Do you really?”

Maybe she shouldn’t have put so much emphasis on the “really”. But as much as she admired Richard’s commitment to honesty, he still sometimes had a hard time differentiating when it was okay to just let something go.

“I just... I have to tell you who. Who the last person I...” He stepped back, paced a tight circle in front of the refrigerator, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Phew, okay, this is harder than I thought it was going to be.”

“Richard, I really don’t need to know who it was. It’s in the past, I’m not going to, what, get jealous, or judge you, or whatever it is you’re afraid of.”

“Gavin Belson,” he blurted, wheeling to face her. His eyes went wide, shocked at his own words. “It was Gavin fucking Belson, okay? I fucked Gavin Belson. Or, well, he fucked me. More accurately.”

That was not something Monica had anticipated, and it took a second for it to sink in. “Wait. What?”

Richard resumed his pacing, his hands gesturing aimlessly in front of him as the words kept spilling out. “I ran into him at this fundraiser, I don’t remember what it was for. It was like two years ago. Two and a half? And I was pissed off at Erlich about something, fuck, I don’t even know, I was just in this shitty mood and Gavin kept goading me, and somehow we ended up in a hotel room. And like, I’m not gay, obviously, I don’t even know why I--”

Monica wanted to reach out, to hold him, but she wasn’t sure if she should. His pace was so quick, and he kept changing directions so suddenly.

“Have you ever talked to anyone else about this?”

“Fuck, no. I thought about telling Jared. But I just, I couldn’t. He’d be so...”

 _Disappointed._ The word hung unsaid between them.

“So why did you feel like you had to tell me?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” He stopped pacing and leaned against the opposite counter, back toward her. “I guess I just felt like it was somehow dishonest, if I didn’t. Like you deserve to know how fucked up I am before you decide you actually want to be with me.”

“Richard,” she said. “I’ve seen you fuck up _a lot_.” She hoped the surge of affection she felt as she said it would come through. “You always do your best to fix it later. And, yeah, sleeping with Gavin Belson was some pretty poor decision-making, but you know what? I make shitty decisions sometimes too.”

“Not really,” he said with a sigh, looking at her over his shoulder. “Never on anything important.”

“Well, I made the exact same bad decision you did, a few years before you.”

She couldn’t really see his face, but she could tell by the way his shoulders were tensing that realization was dawning.

“You didn’t,” he said.

“Yup.” She shrugged. “I fucked Gavin Belson too.”

_“Why?”_

He was angry, she realized, and probably very aware at how hypocritical and irrational his anger was, which was just bothering him more.

“It wasn’t long after Peter died. I was... upset, and I needed an outlet, and I guess he did, too. Not exactly the healthiest way of coping with grief, but I guess it could have been worse.”

Richard’s anger deflated at the mention of Peter. It was strange how thinking about him still gave Monica that little twinge of sadness, even after all this time. It happened more rarely now, and the pain wasn’t as sharp or as crushing, but she doubted it would ever go entirely away. She didn’t really want it to.

“So do we forgive each other for our transgressions?” she asked.

“Yeah, no, I mean, obviously, it would be really stupid not to,” he said. “It’s just weird to think about, isn’t it?”

“Then don’t think about it,” Monica said, pulling him in for another kiss and knowing as she did that Richard was incapable of keeping only one thing in his head at a time.

But when he pulled away, he started laughing, and it was a deep, sincere laugh, devoid of bitterness. It doubled him over, and she could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him look that genuinely amused.

“What?” she finally asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking,” he gasped. “The main reason I never tried asking you out earlier.”

“Which is?”

Richard smiled, a shy, sweet smile that made Monica suddenly feel like this could work, this whole thing wasn’t a crazy pipe dream.

“I was afraid we didn’t have a whole lot in common.”

 


End file.
